For men released from south Etobicoke’s new superjail, the path to housing, a job and mental health and addictions support could soon begin in an aging, red-brick industrial building, located just outside the prison gates.

In October, the John Howard Society of Toronto is slated to open a pioneering reintegration centre directly across the street from the sprawling Toronto South Detention Centre. Organizers say its proximity to the jail and wide array of services on offer will make the centre the first of its kind in North America, and could pave the way for more released prisoners across the country to stay out of jail.

“Our hope is that we can reduce reoffending, and we can provide a model that could be transferrable in similar communities, to help move them out of the system and give them another chance,” said Amber Kellen, the society’s director of community initiatives, policy and research.

Based loosely on the United Way’s hub concept, which clusters services in the city’s neediest neighbourhoods in one-stop shops, the former factory at 215 Horner Ave. is being repurposed to provide what Kellen describes as “triage” for newly released prisoners.

A half-dozen or so non-profit agencies are partnering with the John Howard Society on-site to offer quick, responsive needs assessments and referrals for everything from winter coats to a ride downtown.

It is support that Scarborough resident Chris Fleet, 58, says is desperately needed.

Fleet, who grew up in Toronto, was first convicted of vagrancy at age 12. He spent much of the next 30 years in and out of jail for robberies.

“I never really had a place to go,” he said. “It’s a one-way street.”

When he was in jail, he said, “I knew there was more to life.”

“But I was coming out, and living life right, except I had no support,” he said. “If I could have moved on, who knows how I would have worked out?”

Released prisoners face tough odds, research shows. Anywhere from 33 to 44 per cent of men released from prison will become homeless, Kellen said. Meanwhile, a study of men one year after release from prison found that 40 per cent of those who were unemployed had reoffended, more than double the rate of those who had jobs, according to the John Howard Society.

The demand for reintegration services is particularly pressing near the Toronto South Detention Centre, which towers over a rail yard in an industrial area off Kipling Ave., not far from residential neighbourhoods.

Because of the dearth of social services in the area — there is no men’s shelter in south Etobicoke, for instance — Kellen said she doesn’t anticipate seeing clients more than once. The focus will be on connecting released prisoners with a peer support network that can accompany them to communities better equipped to meet their needs.

“If we don’t have this, people are going to end up at the massage parlours along the Queensway,” she said. “They’re going to end up in parks. They’re going to end up staying in communities that are under-resourced.”

Planning for the centre began in 2010, in response to concerns about the new Toronto South Detention Centre, which was built on the site of former Mimico Correctional Centre to replace the Toronto Jail and the Toronto West Detention Centre.

With 1,650 beds, it is the largest in Ontario. Initial estimates indicated that up to 200 prisoners would be released each week, Kellen said.

However, delays in training new staff have held up transfers to the new jail, which opened to prisoners in January, as the Star has reported.

According to Brent Ross, spokesman for the Ministry of Community Safety and Correctional Services, there are currently 430 inmates, where the expected average occupancy is 600. At the moment, an average of 83 men are released per week, he said, with most of those releases taking place at court.

Ross said the ministry is “pleased to see that the John Howard Society is establishing a facility that complements ministry practices during its discharge planning prior to the release of all inmates.”

“(The) existence of this facility will allow our probation and parole officers to refer their clients to an additional avenue of support in the community,” he said.

Toronto police Const. Michael Burgess said 22 Division has written letters in support of the reintegration centre and the John Howard Society, which struggled to secure a space. (According to Kellen, the group was rejected by at least two landlords, who “didn’t want us there.”)

“You get the not-in-my-backyard syndrome,” Burgess said. “I’m very happy they got the building they got. I’m excited about it. I believe in the model.”

On a recent summer morning, Kellen recently got her first look inside the old factory, which the society and its partners are leasing for $5,000 per month. With some trepidation, she unlocked the door and padded upstairs. Aside from some dirt and peeling paint, she was relieved to find the place in decent shape.

“We don’t have a lot of money for renovations, so we’re just going to do what we can,” she said. “We kind of have a blank slate, so that’s exciting.”

Fleet is hopeful the centre will give released prisoners the fresh start it took him decades to find, finally, at age 45, during his last stint in jail for a bank robbery.

“I just looked around, and I didn’t want to retire there,” he said.

The former boxer says he knows what people think when they see his faded tattoos, which include a pair of SS bolts on the side of his head. But when he was bouncing in and out of prison, he said he often felt like a magnet for violence, and saw the symbols as a means “to keep away the riff-raff.” He stressed that, for him, the ink has nothing to do with white supremacy.

“My life has been very structured around self-preservation,” he said.

These days, he puts in long hours as a commercial roofer, dotes on his cobalt blue Harley Davidson and attends weekly meetings at the John Howard Society. He reports, with a smile, that he’s been “living common-law with the same woman” for more than a decade.

“She always wants me to have more because of all the time I lost in prison. I just keep saying, you can’t replace that time,” he said. “I’ve had a few scuffles with the law, but with support, you don’t get jammed up in that joint.”

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